


Weary Lovely Bones

by AssButtBat



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark Universe, EvilSuperman!, Explicit Sexual Content, Heavy Angst, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 00:03:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19073407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssButtBat/pseuds/AssButtBat
Summary: Bruce has become Kal's plaything--something he never wanted to be.





	Weary Lovely Bones

**Author's Note:**

> I do not DC or its characters. 
> 
> WARNING--Rape/non-con. Clearly, not both parties are enjoying this scene. It's dark AF. If you don't like, don't read please.

            He woke to the feeling of fingers on the small of his back, tracing patterns idly, nails scraping softly over tender skin and he automatically arched away from the touch. His mind was slow to wake, but his body was already alert and stiff with fear.

            Stiff with rejection.

            Rejection of what had already happened and what would likely keep happening.

            “Shhh,” lips whispered into his damp skin, as those fingers kept up the pattern, delicately dipping to the indentions above his buttocks with whispering kisses of skin. He made a noise like a complaint in the back of his throat, maybe the word no, but it was too garbled past the rag in his mouth.

            Drool had long since soaked the fabric and dripped steadily down his chin, onto the black sheets, soiling them with the dried blood from his nose. Bruce squirmed when a thumb dipped and toyed as one large knee spread his legs uncomfortably. His muscles screamed at the action, his head throbbed when he sucked in a panicked breath through his abused nose that sounded like a nasal whine. How many times would it take for this to hurt less? How often would he have to succumb to Kal before he didn’t care? Before the instinct to fight died with the pain?

            “Hush baby, I’ll be gentle this time. I promise.”

            Bruce shook his head, the burning rush of tears stinging his eyes. They both knew he wasn’t capable. Kal always lost a little bit of control.

            “I have to hear you,” Kal moaned, grabbing a handful of Bruce’s backside as the other hand moved gracelessly to the rag stuffed wetly between his lips. The moment Bruce’s mouth was free that probing thumb found what it was looking for and pressed in. Bruce keened, arching as far as he was capable away, shoulders screaming when he pulled uselessly on the bindings anchoring him to Kal.

            “Oh yes,” Kal murmured, “Like that do you?”

            “No,” Bruce hissed, jerking when the thumb began to pump in and out. It helped that Kal had left him wet from the last time. It was better than the tearing sensation of dry skin on skin he’d experienced their first go around. But it stung to high heaven and he ached so badly he was seeing stars by the time Kal decided he’d like to add a finger with and crook it.

            “God, Kal, please stop. It hurts,” Bruce whispered, face muffled into the sheets and bedding.

            Kal groaned, grinding his thighs against the backs of Bruce’s, rubbing his fucking dick into the crease of Bruce’s ass. It felt just as big as last time. And twice as painful. Sweat was already slicking Bruce’s frame when Kal decided he’d given enough prep time and started to hoist Bruce onto all fours. Bruce panicked, bucking, kicking, growling. It did little good and Kal easily submitted him by placing a steel hand over the nape of his neck and squeezing until Bruce’s face was nearly flush with the bed. He was precariously close to being suffocated altogether.

            In some ways, it was better that Bruce knew what to expect. He knew how big Kal was and how long it might take him. He knew Kal liked to pull hair and would want to go hard, bordering on brutal at the end.

            In other ways, it didn’t help at all. Because he knew everything that awaited him. Every painful minute.

            Bruce tried to relax his body the moment he felt the blunt pressure on his ass and the heat of Kal nudging inwards. It didn’t work well enough. Kal slipped in the tip, gave a little shove, then plunged home without any decorum and Bruce howled. His body went taut and the pain went white-hot.

            He knew something had torn. There was no other way to describe it. Sharp, burning fire from ass to balls, to the base of his brain. He felt like something might have short-circuited because when his focus snapped back, Kal was already pumping in and out, pistoning his hips into Bruce with his usual savage pace. Those calloused big hands had found their grips on Bruce’s hip bones and he forced his body to go limp when Kal dug in tighter when he felt Bruce’s lingering tension.

            The pain slipped from excruciating to a dull ache, and slowly, thank God, to numb tingling. Bruce let his mind falter with it and found himself distracted by the sound of skin slapping on skin, wet and lewd and signature. He found his mind stuck on how the scent of cum and blood was oddly nauseating and how the slip and slide of sticky sweat made him feel itchy all over like he was blossoming in hives.

            “Don’t do that,” Kal growled, digging his nails into Bruce’s hips, drawing his attention back to the grinding of skin. “Stay with me, Bruce. Right here.”

            Bruce ignored the command and let himself go even deeper. Until a hand fisted in his hair and hoisted his back up into a slick hot chest and he yelped in pain. He squirmed for a moment, quite literally a fish on a fucking hook, pinned against Kal, being staked up the ass with nowhere to go and gasped obscenely when Kal moved them into a sit. He had Bruce up on his lap now and even though the position afforded Bruce a better airway, he was quickly rotated and forced to face Kal.

            Face to face, Kal was glowing with excitement. His skin was flushed rosy, body shining with sweat, eyes so blue they looked as alien as he was. Bruce slammed his eyes closed and immediately tried to retreat, but found Kal’s punishing grip on his waist, a reminder of how Kal liked these things to go.

            “Look at me.”

            “I—I—” Bruce tried but failed when Kal lifted him with no effort whatsoever and began bouncing the smaller man on his lap, brutally forcing himself deeper and harder. Bruce groaned, a tear slipped down his cheek and his stomached hollowed with the threat of vomit as it felt like his prostate was going to be shoved to his throat.

            “You what?”

            “I c-can’t.”

            Kal paused, shifted his grip on Bruce’s waist then a hand was on his cheek and insistent fingers were prying his mouth open, digging into his tongue. Bruce’s eyes snapped open at the action and caught Kal’s grin just before he started back over again with the punishing rhythm of his hips. Any chance of keeping the pained whimpers from Kal, became obsolete with his mouth pried open like it was.

            Drool spilled down his neck and chin, all over Kal’s stomach and Kal laughed, grinding harder, seemingly turned on by the dirtiness of it.

            Bruce could only gag and struggle to stay upright. His arms were bound behind his back, but his legs were free. He was forced to use his thighs to stop himself from face-planting into Kal on more than one occasion.

            It seemed to take longer this time. Longer than it should have and when Bruce was certain he was going to either pass out or scream, Kal finally started to speed up. His movements grew jerky and short and he cursed before hot liquid speared into Bruce’s center and he stiffened. Numb and relieved that Kal was finally done, he hardly made any sound when Kal roughly tugged him off and rolled him onto his stomach. It was a position Kal liked him in. Bruce was only too happy not to have himself face to face any longer.

            The room fell heavily silent, save the panting breaths of both men and Bruce let himself relax as the sweat clinging to him started to dry beneath the gentle swish of the fan. If he was lucky, Kal would untie him and let him sleep. He might even leave for the night.

            When probing fingers found his dripping entrance and started to play in the mess—he started to panic again.

            Kal couldn’t be ready, again, could he? Not so soon. It wasn’t—

            “I love the sight of me leaking out of you. It’s so hot, Bruce.”

            “Kal—”

            “Bruce,” Kal mused, sounding slightly dreamy from his orgasm and not altogether irritated. Yet. Bruce tried lifting his head to look back at Kal and abruptly wished he hadn’t. There was something so very dark and violent about the man’s face in the slant of moon that he resembled no part of who Clark used to be. He was only the man from Bruce’s nightmares now.

            The lifting of his hips again, enough to slither a strong forearm between his pelvis and the mattress wasn’t a surprise. It was—inevitable, Bruce supposed. The other hand, that had been toying and prodding, moved to spread his cheeks and then—

            Something wet slinked over him, swiping at the cum and Bruce jerked forward hard enough he hissed in pain when Kal’s forearm ground into his front.

            “What are you doing?”

            The tongue lapped again, slow and leisurely, lengthwise, just hinting at what it really wanted and Bruce made a strangled sound in his throat, as terror lodged itself in the base of his spine. Something foreign and unwelcome was heating his lower belly, taunting him.

            “It should be obvious,” Kal answered, more lapping, with a quick spearing thrust to Bruce’s center and Bruce ground his teeth together when he felt himself stirring.

            No. God, anything but that.

            Physiological, sure. But God, it would send the wrong message. Kal would read what he wanted out of it. Kal would—win even more. Would take that from him too.

            “That’s a good boy,” Kal mused, sucking and licking now, sounding thoroughly pleased with himself as he started to rhythmically move his forearm. Bruce could feel his dick responding and immediately felt the shame bubble up beside the ache.

            It was only a matter of time. He’d known that. He had. But this was different than he’d expected and God, he’d never expected Clark—no Kal to do what he was doing. He’d never expected the man to be nibbling at his ass like it was some chocolate covered dessert, groaning and slurping. Bruce would rather die than respond. His body had other ideas. And it stubbornly responded.

            Kal stopped after several long minutes, then rolled Bruce onto his bound hands and found the reward for his ministrations with a wicked grin. He looked handsome like this, and evil. Pure evil. It brought gooseflesh to Bruce’s limbs even as he’d gone hard as a rock for Kal’s hungry gaze.

            Bruce tried to hold out. He tried not to arch or move at all when Kal’s mouth swallowed him whole and he could feel the back of Kal’s throat with his dick. But after a couple of minutes, he was blind with feeling and he was sick to his stomach and he soon he was spilling into Kal’s mouth and Kal didn’t let up on the suction, even when he was empty, and that brief flicker of pleasure turned into over-sensitized and then _pain_ and then he was crying and begging Kal to stop.

            Tears were running down his face and he was tossing his head back and forth and still, Kal licked and sucked and hummed with pleasure until Bruce’s vision started to get black around the edges and he went limp.

            When he blinked sluggishly at Kal, he realized it had finally stopped and Kal wasn’t touching him. He was laying on his painfully numb hands, naked, with Kal’s cum licked clean from his ass and he couldn’t have moved if he wanted to. He was boneless and felt rotten. His mouth tasted like coppery pennies and it took a moment to realize he’d bitten through his tongue and the copper was his own blood. A lot of blood.

            Then the nausea came back, and he couldn’t stop it this time. He rolled onto his side and vomited off the edge of the bed. It was as pungent as the other smells in the room and it made everything else ten times worse.

            “Dirty Bruce.”

            Bruce gasped, working through the vomit until he got it all out. But he had the shakes bad when he could catch his breath, and everything hurt. His eyes pulsed with his heart and his arms, he couldn’t even feel them anymore.

            “Come here baby,” Kal crooned, untying the arms, pulling Bruce into his lap, “I pushed you a little bit today, didn’t I?”

            Bruce could only sag into the arms and shake. Kal started petting his hair, pressing kisses to his forehead like he’d not just raped and then forced him to climax. Bruce would have killed him, in that moment, if he’d had the strength. He would have broken every rule he’d ever made himself if he could have moved.

            “There sweetheart, rest your eyes. Rest them.”

            Bruce couldn’t help but to obey. His eyes slipped closed and he found darkness waiting for him.

           

             


End file.
